


Doll

by KarmaSpitter



Category: World of Warcraft
Genre: Gen, takes place after the Assault on Light's Hope Chapel
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-04 23:28:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 903
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16799179
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KarmaSpitter/pseuds/KarmaSpitter
Summary: The Highlord meets a victim of the Scourge.





	Doll

"And, where are you heading?" Darion asked, he'd lost track of exactly how many times he'd said this today. A bulk of the Ebon Blade's Knights were returning to their respected faction. Bidding each other good-byes as they'd be placed against each other from then on.  
The Troll lifted up her head. "Durotar, I have family back 'dere. I may rejoin de Horde in de process." she answered, "If dere's nothing for me dere, I'll come back."  
"If you choose to stay with the Horde, it was a pleasure to serve alongside you, Knight." the Highlord said with a nod.  
"Loa guide you, Highlord." the Troll said, bowing her head before she departed for the portal to Kalimdor. That was the last one for today, but there would be more tomorrow and the day after that. So few Knights were choosing to remain after the betrayal at Light's Hope Chapel.  
  
This made Darion slump back in his chair, he envied them almost. They had a reason to go back. What of him?  
His mother dead, his murderer of a brother dead, his father put out of his mercy, the Ashbringer purified and chosen a new wielder. He had no life to go back to, the Ebon Blade was all he had now and all he would have.  
It was as his eyes drifted away from his papers; listing names of Knights, their race, estimated age, and where they left for, etc; when his eyes noticed something in the corner of the room. Wanting to dig himself out of this depressive mood he had sweeping over him, he shifted up to his feet and approached the object.  
  
  
It was there that he found an old battered doll, despite the smell that was on fabric and the dark stains, it looked as if it had just recently been sewn together. He leaned down, picking up the old doll, staring at it as it sat limply in his hand. What was this doing here? Did one of the Death Knights lose one of their belongings from their life or-- "My doll!" came the voice of what sounded to be a little girl. Which startled him, for good reason mind you. Because who in their right mind would bring a child here?  
He turned around to see that indeed there was a little girl behind him. She wore a brown dress with a white undershirt and had red hair tied into pigtails. She was staring up at him with happy brown eyes, not even seeming that bothered by where she was or the man she was talking to. Darion blinked at the child before asking, "Who are you?"  
The girl gave him a toothy grin, one of her bottom front teeth was missing. "I'm Pamela Redpath!" she said loudly.  
"Where are your parents?"  
"My Dad's still at home." Pamela replied.  
This made Darion groan. He had never been the one to deal with small children. "Where is home then?" he questioned.  
"Darrowshire!" Pamela yelled. "I can show you the way!"  
He sighed aloud at this. He should not have to play babysitter for someone else's child. This was not his responsibility, whomever her father was, he was prepared to give him a piece of his mind. Acherus was no place for a child.

  
  
He looked ridiculous and he knew it. Being directed via horseback by a child. He dismounted once they reached a crossroads. One of the Argent towers to their right and a winding path to their left. He set Pamela down from his horse, only to have her hold onto his hand and pull him towards where this Darrowshire was.  
Oh he prayed that none of his Death Knights could see him like this.  
  


It was as they crossed the hill did he freeze in his steps. This Darrowshire, this place that Pamela said was her home. It was destroyed and looked as though it had been for years.  
He noticed the skeletons strew about before he realized what had happened.  
Darrowshire was a victim of the Scourge. Overrun and destroyed. Its citizens long dead. Then he realized, that meant that Pamela was...  
He whipped his head towards where the girl had been standing, only to now see that she was almost translucent now. He hadn't noticed anything off because as a Death Knight, he was used to spirits and the like.  
He felt a wave of sickness upon remembering those dark stains on Pamela's doll. it was her--  
  
  


"Are you okay, mister?" Pamela asked, not seeming to notice how different she looked or even realize that she was dead. Darion looked down at her, before kneeling before her and bowing his head. This child couldn't even be seven years old yet and yet she was dead to the Scourge's hand. To that bastard Arthas' hand. He'd done this, he'd taken all of their lives in addition to this town's and many like it.  
  
He swore then and there that Arthas would die, no matter the cost. No more children would perish to the Scourge. No more Death Knights would live in guilt knowing that the man who wronged them and everyone still had control.  
  
Pamela still seemed a bit puzzled by his current actions. "Are you a Knight like the ones from the Silver Hand?" she asked.  
Darion finally raised his head with a tilt before replying, "Pamela Redpath, I am Highlord Darion Mograine."

**Author's Note:**

> This came to be when I was visiting Acherus as my Unholy Death Knight and with Pamela's Doll as my chosen object from the Eastern Plaguelands, Pamela began following me while I was passing by Darion. Thus this got in my head like the damn gremlin it is and demanded to be written.


End file.
